


It was Always You

by CaptainKenway



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainKenway/pseuds/CaptainKenway
Summary: The world was full of constants—your soulmate's first words were written on your skin, stalking was never the answer, reality shows were the worst, and Adam would also fuck up meeting Blake Shelton.





	It was Always You

“Reality shows are where celebrities go to die. Why are you still bringing this up?”

Jordan, the Maroon 5 manager who frequently reminded Adam he wasn’t paid enough, sighed heavily. “I feel the same usually, but the NBC studio head offered this gig to you directly. It’s not bad to have a major network in your back pocket.”

“Actually, his assistant reached out directly to you who told me,” Adam said. “So it’s technically indirect.”

“This is a great opportunity to improve your image,” Jordan continued pointedly. “Plus, it’s a nice paycheck during the band’s hiatus.”

Adam crunched an apple loudly. Jordan looked pained but it was his fault for choosing to stop by Adam’s house. “Hiatus is so final. We’re just relaxing between touring and creating new music.”

“So a hiatus.”

“Fine,” Adam said, searching his kitchen for another prop to annoy Jordan into leaving. Apparently saying no at their initial meeting and ignoring Jordan’s calls and texts wasn’t answer enough. He took another loud bite from his apple. “We’re on a brief hiatus.”

“It’s not a bad word.”

“Sure it is,” Adam said. “Just like reality television.”

Another sigh. “The Voice is not like other shows. Why don’t you pay attention?”

“Oh I have. Four superstar judges coaching the next big star.” Adam’s announcer voice was on point even if Jordan didn’t appreciate it. “A singing competition that’s definitely not like any other singing competition. Riveting TV really.”

“Christina Aguilera already signed on,” Jordan said.

“Because dead and dying celebrities flock to reality television. The most she’s done lately is fuck up the national anthem,” Adam said. “My answer is still no. I don’t want to be locked in NBC’s experiment for a couple of months.”

“You literally asked me if there was anything you could do during the band’s hiatus because you’re a workaholic who doesn’t know how to handle time off.”

“That was code for find me awesome collaborators or a music studio to crash,” Adam said, “not commit me to a celebrity retirement community.”

“You can collaborate with musicians on The Voice,” Jordan said. “This is the perfect outlet for you to at least try. Your contract is only the first season, which took a lot of negotiating no thanks to you.”

“Never asked for that.”

Jordan plowed on as if Adam never spoke. “If it tanks, it tanks. Yours won’t be the only big name tied to this. And do I need to mention the pay again? Because it’s a nice chunk of change for sitting on your ass and critiquing singers.”

Jordan’s persistence was a trait Adam appreciated when it wasn’t used against him. Though the last time Jordan was this persistent was when he convinced Maroon 5 to stop producing everything in-house and expand a bit because apparently going five-plus years between albums was too long. Jordan eventually landed them a producer legend which led to some new hits in a quick fashion so he supposed their manager knew what he was talking about.

“How long will filming be?” Adam asked, partially to throw Jordan a bone and partially to see where it would fit in during the band’s break.

“The Blinds, promos, and the recorded shows should only take a few weeks to shoot,” Jordan said quickly. “The live episodes will be twice a week but those are the only days you’re required to show up. All together The Voice will only take a few months and it’ll be light filming the second half.”

It fit snugly between everything like Adam suspected. Jordan was too thorough for schedule conflicts which was unfortunate.

“CeeLo Green agreed too,” Jordan said.

Good for him. Adam still didn’t care.

“Carson Daly is the host.” Jordan could tell he wasn’t wavering. Finally. “Remember him? He was one of the first people to have Maroon 5 on his show.”

Trying to appeal to his sentiments. Jordan was getting desperate.

“I don’t care about singing shows, I don’t care that Carson is the host, I don’t care NBC temporarily dubbed me one of the four best musicians in the industry, and I really don’t care the Christina Aguilera, CeeLo Green, and…that other guy are judges,” Adam said. “Don’t get me wrong, Carson is a good guy but I don’t want to be tied to something I’m not passionate about. I’m finally at that the point where I can be picky about that shit. Christina, CeeLo, and… Fuck, who’s the other judge? Weren’t they getting some country guy? Or was it ska?” Jordan opened his mouth. “Whatever, I don’t care. The point is they can do what they want while I’m not associated with reality television and loving it.” Jordan sighed heavily and in a defeated way that made Adam smug. “Actually, it’ll bug me if I don’t know. Who’s the other judge?”

Jordan toyed with the file on Adam’s butcher block countertop that he never used but his chef adored. Adam chewed his apple, pointedly not acknowledging The Voice bait.

“Blake Shelton.”

Adam stiffened. Holy shit it was an answer. This entire time he read the context wrong. A random statement, a stilted greeting… But it being an answer made so much more sense. Whose trailer is that? Who ordered all this chicken? Who’s the unknown country musician?

Blake Shelton.

Fuck his soulmate was on this show.

“Adam, you ok?” Jordan asked.

“What? Yeah,” Adam said. He took another bite of his apple. “You know what? Fuck it, I’ll do the show, judge people, all of that.”

Jordan stared like he didn’t know if Adam was messing with him. Which, you know, fair. “That’s an abrupt change of heart.”

“You’re persuasive, my dude,” Adam said.

“Very abrupt.”

He shrugged, attempting to ooze nonchalance. “Like you said, it’s easy money. And I don’t really care what people think about me so when it fails—sorry if it fails—it doesn’t hurt me any. Sellout has already been thrown around for years. What’s a little TV going to do?”

“House other dying celebrities?”

“Jordan, so snarky,” Adam said. “It’s almost as if you don’t want me to sign on.”

“I do,” Jordan said. “But do you?”

“Sure, new experiences and all that.” Fuck what was the phrase Jordan parroted in his Voice ambushes? “Meet new artists.” Not that. “Maybe write Christina a pity song.” Definitely not. “Say hey to the country guy.” Adam’s stomach twisted. He hurriedly moved on. “Make nice with directors and producers.” Oh wait. “Improve my image! Yeah mostly that last one. Gotta improve that playboy image with my boyish charm.”

“Right…”

Jordan was not buying this at all. Which was slightly worrying until Adam remembered he’s technically an employee. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I want to join The Voice. No, I’m going to join The Voice. Make it happen.”

Jordan stared harder. “You’re serious.”

“As serious someone can be when it involves reality television,” Adam said. “Let’s play hard to get when I sign on and see if we can get NBC to throw more money at us or if I can get out of some promo things.” He rubbed his bicep. “And I’m only doing this a season.” A few months had to be long enough. “Nothing too crazy.”

“Can do,” Jordan said. “We’ll meet tomorrow morning?”

Ah trying to trap Adam before he had a chance to change his mind. Smart but unneeded. “Works for me. By the way if we need produced drama let NBC know I’m totally willing to go head-to-head with Christina.”

Jordan snorted, his wary expression finally fading. “I’ll put it on the table. So everything changed just like that?”

“I’m famous and finicky,” Adam said. He made a show of looking at the clock. “Let’s wrap up this impromptu meeting. I have a date with some models and a pool so if you could let yourself out…”

“Yeah alright, playboy,” Jordan said. “I’ll text you what time we’re meeting tomorrow.”

Adam waved as he left, nonchalantly moving around his kitchen and nonchalantly pretending he didn’t get life-altering news. He loudly chewed his apple.

Then the front door close.

Adam stripped, dropping the apple and flinging his shirt to the floor. He raised his arm until familiar words stared back at him. Blake Shelton, as it had since birth, wrapped around his bicep.

Welp. This was happening.

 

* * *

 

 

Adam, like his parents, assumed that “Blake Shelton” was the name of his soulmate. He researched Blake Sheltons because obviously. It was a more popular name combo than expected but it wasn’t at a William Johnson or some other generic name level so Adam wasn’t entirely overwhelmed.

The highlights of his research included a New York orthodontist accused of embezzlement, a rock climber who lost a hand to frostbite, some redneck that set a swarm of locust loose on his neighbor and was subsequently surprised when the locust infested the entire town, a surfer who saved a drowning kid, and, randomly, a Dairy Queen employee who gave him a free blizzard.

Then Blake Shelton the country musician became a person and dominated all Google searches and news outlets. The bitch.

Unless that Blake Shelton was his Blake Shelton.

Country Blake Shelton was around his age and also in the music scene so they could meet all casual-like, finally talk, and happen to be soulmates. Because finding your soulmate was supposed to be “beautiful” and “easy” and didn’t involve stalking and forced meetings.

Not that Adam classified his phases of avoiding or ambushing country Blake as stalking. More like giving destiny a helping hand.

Yeah.

Of course, every time Adam tried to meet the guy—subtly. No one but his parents and the band knew his words—Blake was annoyingly absent. Maroon 5 even performed at the Country Music Awards—ok, maybe not that subtle because the CMAs was a bitch to book—and Blake still slipped through the cracks. The closest he got to the allusive asshole was Kelly Clarkson's birthday party where he glimpsed Blake from across the theater. Blake booked it a few minutes later.

Not really beautiful or easy so far.

The other possibility—that his soulmate wasn’t country Blake Shelton or a Blake Shelton at all—also crossed his mind. Because his words were “Blake Shelton.” Not “I’m Blake Shelton.” Maybe his soulmate was a terse fan and it was meant in a more “that's Blake Shelton” kind of way or, even better, his soulmate was not a country music fan and it was “Who's Blake Shelton?”

Or it was the response from a harried stagehand or producer. Which honestly made the whole no verbs thing make sense.

Adam released his bicep. If he joined a shitty TV show and didn’t find his soulmate he’d be pissed.

 

* * *

 

“I thought I’d have to drag you here,” Jordan said. Oh sweet oblivious Jordan who side eyed him ever since he signed the contract. Adam taking an extra twenty minutes primping—Jordan’s words, not his—definitely didn’t help.

But this was his first day at The Voice, the day the judges met. Officially, so NBC producers could game plan the show but unofficially to see how the judges interacted and if their angle would be more dramatic or amiable.

This was also the first day Adam would meet his soulmate who, he determined, was either Blake Shelton, Blake Shelton’s entourage, or a Voice crew member unrelated to Blake Shelton.

The black band around his bicep itched.

“Just being a team player,” Adam said. A random group of crew members passed. He nodded. “Hey.”

Most of them stared, not expecting to be addressed by #4 on some online poll on the douchiest douches in Hollywood. Adam blamed his resting face and a few dumb quotes that stuck around from the early 2000s.

Maybe his image did need some work.

“Hi,” a burly man said as Jordan and Adam passed.

Fuck he can’t say something generic. Generic soulmate words were the worst because they were interchangeable with hundreds of thousands of people. He needed to say something unique. Something that was obviously the first thing a soulmate would say to another soulmate.

“Where are bagels?” Adam asked a random Voice crew member.

The crew member blinked. “I think there’s some in the conference room.”

Shit. In what way was the answer to “where are bagels” Blake Shelton? He nodded, trying to hide his annoyance. He was the worst soulmate hunter.

“Are you ok?” Jordan asked. “You’re acting… cheery.”

“I’m a cheery person.”  

“You don’t usually act like you’re running for mayor.”

“Whatever.” He needed to act normal. Finding your soulmate was supposed to be easy and fateful and shit. But his soulmate definitely involved Blake Shelton and Blake Shelton would be here in at least fifteen minutes.

They entered the conference room, Carson beamed, and they made random shop talk as the clock ticked closer to the official start time. Blake was a country boy. He should be on time if not early. Adam tapped his fingers against the table.

It hit 8.

No Blake, CeeLo, or Christina. A producer Adam never met walked in. They chatted and weren’t soulmates. Adam’s leg bounced. The shop talk continued and eventually merged into Voice talk as the clock continued ticking and no other judge appeared.

CeeLo Green eventually arrived with his giant glasses and a solemn fist bump, his posse expanding behind him and making Adam wonder if he should’ve brought more than Jordan. Even Christina Aguilera graced them with her presence 40 minutes later. But the fucking country singer never showed up.

Even when Adam lingered around the studio and Jordan abandoned him.

Blake Shelton never came.

 

* * *

 

Adam was pissed.

He found excuses to come to NBC every day this week—Jordan stopped trying to understand—and Blake Shelton wasn’t even here. He probably dropped out of The Voice all together knowing Adam’s track record.

Which would be fine if Adam found his soulmate in the meantime. He asked tons of questions and had conversations with basically every NBC employee that crossed his path, but no Blake Shelton was uttered.

His chattiness, early arrival, and consistence presence had the unintended effect of putting Adam in NBC’s good graces. Not that he cared because he was still soulmate-less and trapped in a reality show. But it was something.

Carson turned a corner and immediately smiled to cover his frown. Yeah Adam didn’t know why he was still here either.

“Adam, what brings you—”

“Is Blake Shelton even involved? Or are we getting a new country guy?” Adam asked. Carson’s frown returned but Adam ran out of fucks this morning. “Or country girl? Is NBC experimenting on if two women can get along too?” Was that rude? Definitely. But again: see the amount of fucks Adam had.

“Blake Shelton?”

Even though they weren’t Carson’s first words to Adam, his heart still stuttered.

“Yeah, never met the guy.” The slippery bastard. “But figured if he was around I could say hey. Be hospitable, break the ice.” Adam took a breath. “I was in the neighborhood so…”

“He’s a judge,” Carson said. “He’s just late due to personal problems.”

“Oh ok.” Adam deflated. Why did he keep forcing everything? Blake Shelton would sit on a red chair too, they’d meet eventually, and might be soulmates. They also might not be soulmates and he needed to wrap his head around that. He had to stop pinning his soulmate dreams on Shelton or his troupe. He’d meet his other half eventually and then everything would make sense. Or he could at least get closure and move on. Either way he needed to get away from NBC until they started filming. “Well, I’ll meet him soon I guess. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Carson said.

“Trust me, I’m not doing anything,” Adam said. Carson annoyingly started following as he weaved through the now familiar studio. “Anything productive anyway.”

“This is your first time on a show, right?” Carson asked. “I mean as more than a guest?”

“It is,” Adam said. “Not why I’m here.”

“Really? Because the other judges are in the same boat as you and they’re not here.”

Yeah that was the issue.

“Are you excited? You can admit it,” Carson said. “It’s fun being a part of something new.”

Adam snorted. He couldn’t help it. “Trust me, reality television is not my thing.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Running for NBC mayor,” Adam said, hightailing it to the front entrance while a determined Carson kept pace.

Carson looked amused but didn’t stop following. “I doubt that for some reason. Adam, if there’s something you need—”

He needed to get away right now and sulk in peace. The studio doors swung open as Adam reached for the handle. He wasn’t going to question the timing, planning on ducking his head and scooting past. But a looming country figure pulled him up short. Blake Shelton stood in front of him, wide eyes blue and matching his denim on denim. A shorter woman was beside him, startled but shaking Carson’s hand on autopilot.

Adam searched his whole life for Blake Shelton and for this particular Blake Shelton for about seven. Now that he was close enough to hit so definitely close enough to talk to, Adam was speechless.

“Blake, we were just talking about you,” Carson said. “Glad you made it. Here’s one of your fellow judges, Adam Levine. Have you met?”

Blake shook his head. Adam’s hands were clammy as he waited for Blake to say it. He had to say it. Blake offered his hand to shake.

“Blake Shelton.”

Adam’s brain short-circuited.

“Ah, shit, it is you. Not someone here or in your entourage but you. Like you you,” Adam said. “Fuck me. I should’ve been more prepared. You know your name has been on me since day fucking one and I have jackshit ready to say. I could’ve been suave or snarky but nope. Not me. Not today. I’ve been trying to get this—” Adam gestured between them, realizing that Blake’s eyes remained wide and the woman and Carson gawked. He also realized they stood in the middle of the entrance and a small crowd huddled around them. He plowed on. “—to happen since you became a thing. But that’s impossible because you fuck off constantly.” Blake didn’t say anything. “Wait you are my soulmate, right? My Blake Shelton? I’m not just rambling? I know that soulmates don’t always match so if I’m not yours that’s fine and devastating. Not that you have to be my soulmate. Are you though?” Adam ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck I’m making this worse.”

Silence descended and the studio need to spontaneously combust so Adam could make a dignified escape, break his Voice contract, and never return. He peeked at Blake.

Blake’s slack-jawed expression morphed into a beam. Adam’s heart thudded.

“I’ll be honest,” Blake said. “I’ve had those words wrapped my torso since I grew up but I never pictured someone like you saying them.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Adam said. “It is you.”

Blake’s face softened. “It is. Hey.”

Carson, Adam’s new favorite and someone he seriously considered buying an obnoxiously expensive gift for, somehow dispersed the NBC lobby crowd so he and Blake were somewhat secluded. The short woman remained startled but guarded the doors.

“Hi.” Adam felt giddy. His soulmate— _his soulmate_ —was here. Right next to him where he belonged. “Your hatred of verbs caused me so much angst.” Wow, not to ruin the moment. “Ignore that sorry. It slipped out. It’s just…my only words were ‘Blake Shelton.’ No ‘hey I’m Blake Shelton’ or ‘my name is Blake Shelton.’ Just your name. No one introduces themselves like that. I mean you did, which is definitely normal.” He needed to stop talking. “Anyway, you’re the reason I joined this show because I figured if it wasn’t you then it’d be someone around you.”

“You look so aloof but ramble so much,” Blake said wonderingly.

“Fuck off,” Adam said.

Blake’s eyes crinkled. “No monologue?”

“Not yet,” Adam said. Then something Blake said sunk in. “Wait my words cover your torso?”

“Yep.”

His undignified word vomit? “That entire thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Blake said. “Freaked out the doctor when I popped out. The words are the first thing your soulmate says which, as you proved, isn’t always a sentence.”

“Shit.”

“Mom doesn’t like that you taught little me several swears, by the way.”

Great first impression. Though hopefully enough time had passed that Adam could twist it into an endearing ‘don’t euthanize your son’s soulmate’ story. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Blake grinned, crowding close. “I can’t believe you joined this show for me.”

“I made Maroon 5 perform at the Country Music Awards for you,” Adam said, fixating on Blake’s dimples. “I was determined for a casual meet up.”

Blake did air quotes, looking dorky and not at all charming. “Casual.”

“The most casual,” Adam agreed, still soaking in Blake’s presence but becoming aware that they were definitely blocking foot traffic and at least one person filmed them.

Blake snatched Adam’s hand, all too easily reclaiming his attention.

“So, soulmate,” Blake said. “Want to grab lunch?”

**Author's Note:**

> LadyArinn here, I have hijacked this story. Which I have not read yet, but I will and I will leave a beautiful and heartfelt note on. I just wanted to wish all of you a wonderful day and thank you for reading my whore faced friend's story! I had something different typed up there, it was very sweet, but she was a bitch about a TEMPORARY SPELLING ERROR and it had to change. You understand.
> 
> Correction, I have been informed (very bitchily) that is was a grammar error, not a spelling error. Let me go throw myself off a fucking volcano from the shame. She's being a butt about this too. You should shame her.
> 
> Once again, have a wonderful day and be a better person that the writer of this story. It won't be that hard.


End file.
